Looks like a place i was watching people restore on Grand Designs last night, was an old waterworks. Looked good in the end, kinda sad that no one sees what others do in some of these places.
To bad they never finished the condos. What a great building it would be to live in. A circular living room would be fun to decorate. And the outside of the building would be wonderful to see every day when you returned home.
Auntesther, I can totally relate. By and large I've found psych hospitals to be cold, sterile, lifeless places where patients are essentially infantilized. It's not treatment, it's babysitting. If you play nice and do what you're told, you get out. Like you said, there are kind, caring individuals there who genuinely want to help people, but in my experience most seem to be going through the motions. Ironically, the most positive interactions I've had were with the low-paid mental health techs. Unlike many of the other staff members (particularly the nurses), they treated me less like a case number and more like a human being.
I hated art therapy. I'm a writer, but not artistically inclined in the least, and in the two places where it's been a part of the treatment regimen, the "therapists" frequently got impatient and snippy with me because I couldn't follow their directions precisely. They were very demanding and seemed to expect me to do things perfectly and were very rigid about the activities that they would allow me to do. One was incredibly rude and nasty and even called me out in front of other patients and staff, which promptly sent me into a self-destructive rage. When I talked to some other staff members about it later, they agreed that she was out of line; one even suggested that the therapist had taken a particular dislike to me because I reminded her (the "therapist") of her daughter. The next time I went to that hospital I was happy as hell to see her gone. The rec therapist who's there now is wonderful -- very upbeat, encouraging and sympathetic, exactly like someone in that position should be.
While it sounds like this sign was intended for staff, I've been "on precautions" in the hospital. It just meant that I was a suicide risk, so the staff made sure to keep anything -- and I mean anything -- out of my hands that I could conceivably use to injure myself. Most places have allowed me to keep things like paperbacks, lip balm, even pens and non-spiral notebooks, but everything else was kept locked up. So if I wanted to brush my hair, for example, I had to ask a staff member to get the brush for me. It's inconvenient at times, but I understand the rationale and I've never really objected to it.
I can't remember if this was the case at every hospital, but in at least one place they did indicate that I was on suicide precautions by putting a certain color of sticker on the name card next to my door.
My brother was there on and off for years. he was probably dyslexic but back in the 50's if you couldn't comprehend you were considered retarded and sent to an institution. My brother was maybe 10, it destroyed my Mom, hence our family. I never liked going there because when my brother came home it was bad enough that he wasn't 'himself' anymore. I think the psychiatric doctors back then were nuts. They labeled inocent people and ruined lives. May god rest my dear brother's soul, he is now at peace.
Someone wore those clothes, someone hung those curtains, someone bought and sat in that chair, someone opened that dresser, SOMEONE PAINTED THOSE WALLS TURQUOISE ONCE, so much history, it is truly fascinating!
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